


Paul’s Memoirs: The Story of a Young Slave

by Leonard (leonardwriting)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dubious Consent, First Time, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Slave, Molestation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Punishment, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonardwriting/pseuds/Leonard
Summary: A somewhat caring man kidnaps a twelve-year-old boy and turns him into a slave. One year in, he makes the boy write the story of his capture. The boy, a natural submissive, struggles to understand his feelings at what he’s become. Will his Master like what he wrote?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 11
Kudos: 27





	Paul’s Memoirs: The Story of a Young Slave

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story depicts sex between a man and a boy. The boy is kidnapped and punished when he does not behave. Don’t read this if you don’t… well, if you don’t want to. It is entirely fantasy.

Hi. My name is Paul, and I’m 13 years old. Here is the pledge I make to my Master each morning:

_My name is Paul, and I am a slave. I belong to you, Master Mitch, and you are everything to me. I am your property, your toy, your treasured possession. I swear to be an obedient slut, and I pledge to obey all of your commands without hesitation, to serve your every need, to worship you. I am here to be used by you, Master, and I submit to you completely. Do you want to fuck me?_

  
I have it memorized perfectly, of course. I never make mistakes, or not anymore, not for a long time. A few times, Master Mitch used to slap me awake at like 3am and say “pledge!” and even just waking up I could say it perfectly, so I’m really good at it. On most days, though, I just have to kneel before him, naked except for cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and of course my collar, and I guess my cock cage, and then say it all. When I kneel, my forehead is on the ground, and I don’t look up. Then I just wait for him to answer.

Like I said, I’m only 13 years old, so I guess that’s weird.

This morning, Master Mitch said yes. He had me get on all fours, took out the plug I’d had in all night, put some greasy lube on my ass, and shoved his dick in.

Sorry, let me say it the way I should. He shoved his big 7.5” dick into my tiny 13-year-old ass. I cried out. I keep trying not to yell or cry, but it’s big, and he kind of likes to go in fast.

And then I moaned. My little dick had already been kinda hard, but now it started stretching, at least as much as it could in its cage. I felt my skin prickle with sweat, and I gasped while he shoved into me, pushing my body forward. “Uhhhhhh,” I said, as he pulled out and shoved in again, fucking his little slave over and over. I guess you want to know, so yes, he came in me, and then he plugged me right back up. When that happens, it means I’m going to store his cum for the day.

He didn’t let me cum, either. He doesn’t, usually, and I really wish he did, but Master knows best. He never even took my cage off this morning, so I just felt my dick push and strain and… yeah. Honestly it really sucks to be 13 and caged. I’m _so_ horny, like all the time. But when he was done and I was plugged again, I just knelt down like I was supposed to. “Thank you, Master,” I said, looking down at the floor.

Maybe he might let me cum, I thought. But he didn’t, of course. He saves that for special occasions.

So... yeah, that’s me, I guess. I’m Paul, and I’m 13. My Master kidnapped me a year ago and made me his slave, and now he’s commanded me to write down the story of how he did it.

I hope you like it. I really really hope you like it, because he says that if not enough people like it, I’m going to get punished. That’s why I talked about how big my Master’s dick is up there, and how small I am, so you’d like it.

But my Master is a good Master. He knows I was always good at writing, and I haven’t had math or history or other classes like that for the past year, but he kept me learning writing. And, I guess, reading stories I was probably too young for. Now I guess I know why.

I really hope you like it.

* * *

I guess I should tell you a bit about me.

I wasn’t really the kind of kid who had lots of friends. I mean, I guess I wanted them, but I started ballet when I was four years old and that just sucks for making friends. Also I read all the time. Like, all the time. Back when I wasn’t a slave, everyone else hung out and texted and stuff, but I liked to read books. I was a really good reader, too. Just before my Master kidnapped me, I was reading _Team of Rivals_ by Doris Kearns Goodwin, which is about Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War. I mean, I also read fun stuff like _Lord of the Rings_ and _Harry Potter_. I wasn’t totally weird.

I also liked writing. I was great at English and History and stuff like that.  A fter he kidnapped me and  finished my basic training,  my Master started me in a writing class  because he liked how I wrote.  I guess  it was also  so I could write this journal. I’m really glad he didn’t put me in a math class, though. I would’ve  done really bad and  spent like all the time hung up and with my balls getting shocked and that would really have sucked. Having your balls shocked hurts a lot, like a lot. If you haven’t had it done to you, don’t.  But if you have a Master and he wants it,  then you should do what he says,  I guess,  even if it hurts .

Anyway, yeah, I guess I was a nerd, and no one liked me. I got picked on a lot, because of ballet, and because of reading all the time, even in class. But I liked dancing a lot, and I liked reading, so I got to do things I wanted to do. I just ignored everyone else.

I guess  since I had no friends, it  was  easier for Master to  take me.  W ell, that and the video games.

I played online, all kinds of games, and I didn’t have friends to play with. Also, it’s not like my parents knew what I was doing. One day, I just started talking with a teammate. Mitty1128. He was really nice, and he’d read a lot of the same books as me, and he cared about my life and what I did. He treated me like an adult, and we talked about history and politics and all kinds of stuff. He was really cool, and he cared about me.

I gave him my e-mail. Then my phone number. Now I had someone to text, too.

We talked all the time. He sent me memes, links to cool sites, videos, games. He even would joke with me, rickroll me and stuff. He bought me a couple of games on Steam. It was the coolest thing.

He asked what I looked like, I showed him. I showed him my room, told him about my dancing, sent him a photo of my bookcase. All normal stuff, or so I thought. Even when it got weird, I never really saw it.

Mitty1128: Hey kiddo, how’s it going? [10:32pm]

PJ2112: Doing good, hbu? [10:32pm]

Mitty1128: I’m good. Kinda bored. [10:32pm]

PJ2112: Want to play something? [10:33pm]

Mitty1128: Isn’t it late? [10:33pm]

PJ2112: It’s ok, I can stay up [10:33pm]

Mitty1128: I shouldn’t keep you up. Maybe send me another selfie? [10:34pm]

PJ2112: I sent it to you last night [10:34pm]

Mitty1128: I just want a good contact photo and that one was dark. [10:34pm]

PJ2112: Yeah ok, I’ll put on a shirt [10:34pm]

Mitty1128: What’s the big deal? We’re both guys. [10:34pm]

PJ2112: Gimme a minute[10:35pm]

Mitty1128: You don’t need to be ashamed of your body. You’re a dancer! [10:35pm]

PJ2112: I’m not ashamed [10:35pm]

Mitty1128: So? [10:35pm]

PJ2112: I’m not [10:35pm]

Mitty1128: Yeah, ok. [10:35pm]

PJ2112: Here [10:38pm]

Mitty1128: That’s cute! Your hair is all mussed up! [10:39pm]

PJ2112: Don’t make fun of me. [10:39pm]

Mitty1128: Dude, you look great! Seriously, thanks for the selfie. [10:39pm]

PJ2112: Thanks [10:40pm]

So, like, I thanked him after I sent him a shirtless pic, and I didn’t even think that night was weird or anything. There was other stuff, like he talked about how he liked brainy kids, and I just thought, “oh, cool, that explains why he likes me!” He said he hoped one day he’d “have a kid like me...” I thought he meant he wanted a son. Most days, though, we just talked about everything, and sometimes he said stuff like that, and I didn’t think about it, not really. I was just kind of… falling further under his control. Doing what he told me to do, thinking like he wanted me to think.

And there was more, too, that I didn’t know about. One of the sites he sent me a link to was loaded with spyware and stuff, and I never knew it. It basically gave him total control of my computer, and another site he sent me to took control of my phone. Not just was he talking to me all the time, and I told him all this stuff, but now he watched me each day through my webcam and I never knew it. He saw what I did in my room, and he could look at me while I was sleeping, or while I was changing, or whenever he wanted. Forget that shirtless pic, he saw everything.

Later, he showed me some of those videos like me dancing naked to music or just walking around. He literally saw everything in my life.

After he kidnapped me, Master Mitch told me about all this. How much he liked me. How I was slender, and beautiful, and sexy. How the shirtless pic convinced him to send me the spyware, and what he saw on the spyware convinced him to take me as his slave. I was tall, with good posture and even some boyish muscles from ballet. I had long arms and long legs, thick eyebrows, and a big head of light brown, or maybe dirty blond hair.

“I also liked your hair,” he said as I was laying naked up against him one time, and he ran his hand through that hair. “It hangs out over your forehead, it’s cute.”

And, of course, my body was hairless. Hairless everywhere, as Master Mitch already knew, because he watched me naked every night. “You were fucking hot, my pet,” he told me one night a couple months ago. He loves to talk about how he watched me, and how he took me. “God, I jerked off to you every night when you were going to bed. I just wanted to grab you and just run my hands all over your smooth little belly and then fuck you silly.” I’d just brought him a beer, and he had me lie down and he started caressing my belly as he started to sip his drink. “And,” he kept going as his hand slid up and down along my skin, “I did.” I had goosebumps all over.

Some nights, we talk about what it was like when I was free. A lot of times it’s after I’ve sucked him off, and he lays back in bed and has me climb up next to him. He holds me in his arms and tells me what a great boy I am. “So shy, doing your ballet, no friends,” he says. “And whatever I said, you’d do it.” He’d pause sometimes, maybe run his fingers along my face. He likes to just have a fingertip on my nose and play with it a little bit, or caress my cheeks. “I always thought you’d be a nice submissive little slut,” he says, “and look at you, look how much you like it.”

“Yes, Master,” I always reply, as his fingers move down to my chest and start toying with my nipples, and my little boy-dick strains against its cage. Maybe if I answer right, he’ll let it out for a bit. I really am a slut, I want it so bad.

“Still,” he’ll say as he caresses me, “I guess we had to test it to know for sure.”

What he’s talking about is that spyware he installed. It was Sunday afternoon, and I was up in my room just browsing Wikipedia. My webcam was on, of course, just like usual, but I didn’t know about that. Then all of a sudden my computer stopped responding and started showing me porn.

I’d never watched porn before.  I know, I was 12, but  I wasn’t that kind of ki d!  I t wasn’t right, and my parents wouldn’t have approved.  And now it was there and full screen  and I couldn’t stop it !

I tried to close it,  I did, but there was no X button.  It opened on this tiny guy who had a collar and leash on and with his hands cuffed behind his back. I guess the guy was a twink, right, hairless? The leash was being held by a big guy standing over him, and the smaller guy was panting and sweaty and looking up nervously.

I was freaking out. I  felt myself sweating and panting, just like the guy in the video.  I must’ve gotten hard but I didn’t notice  since  I was so scared,  I didn’t understand what I was seeing . I  guess I  should’ve gotten my parents, but I couldn’t tell them I was watching  porn! They’d never believe me  that it wasn’t my fault .

The big guy pulled hard on the leash, forcing the little guy to lean forward, and then he reached down and slapped him. I yelped out loud and felt my breath catch in my throat. I was thinking all kinds of things I didn’t understand. The little guy, still kneeling, just looked up at the big guy with a red cheek, and then the big guy slapped him again. The little guy looked down and said, “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Open,” instructed his Master, and the little guy opened his mouth, and then started to suck on his Master’s dick.

It went on for like 20 minutes. I was staring wide-eyed, sweaty, my mouth just open as I took it in. (Master Mitch showed me the video. He said he jerked off a lot to watching me see sex for the first time.) Sometime around then, I noticed that my dick was really hard, and I got even more scared, but I couldn’t stop watching. It felt good to watch.

And then it stopped. My computer just went to a black screen. “What?” I cried, forgetting the computer had been taken over in the first place. A message came up: YOU WANT TO SEE MORE, DON’T YOU?

I knew I should’ve clicked NO. I knew it.

But I clicked YES.

DO YOU WANT TO BE THE SMALL GUY OR THE BIG GUY? And in my mind, I’d been picturing myself… I’d been picturing myself sucking on that big dick, and the video had stopped just after the small guy had been bent over on the bed and the big guy had put his dick up to his ass, and… I clicked SMALL GUY. In that moment, I just wanted to see more.

I didn’t know  how my life would change with that single click .  That was when Master Mitch knew  for sure I’d be a good slave for him,  and I don’t think there was any way I could stop it after that  even if I’d known  what he had in mind .

I couldn’t turn away as I watched the big guy’s dick slide in, and he started to  fuck his little slave.  I was sweating and distracted when it was done, and I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. I didn’t  even  know how to jerk off back then.

* * *

By now, Master Mitch also had full access to my phone. He saw my whole day. He used the GPS to know where I was, who I texted, what websites I visited. When I snuck it out in school. Everything.

When I started searching online about sex after that video, he knew it.

One day, h e told me he’d be visiting near where I lived, and asked if he could see me.  I rehearsed alone in the studio every day from 2:30pm – 4:00pm, and I invited him to come.  I didn’t even think it was weird  that a random  25-year-old  internet stranger would come watch me,  I was just so excited to meet him .  He brought me ice cream, and then f or an hour he watched me in my thin, skintight black leotard as I danced, rehearsing moves over and over again,  bending my lithe body to and fro .

“You’re really good at this!” he said.

I blushed. My instructor told me I was good at it too, but it wasn’t the same as hearing it from a friend. “Thanks,” I said.

“I was never good at dancing.”

“It just takes practice,” I replied.

“Nah,” he said, “it’s more than that. Can I see that last dance again?”

And I danced for him. Of course he picked one where I kicked my legs up, giving him nice views of my privates underneath my leotard. I had no idea.

I liked showing off, I just didn’t realize everything I was showing off. I didn’t know my Master’s love yet, but it wouldn’t be long now.

* * *

That night, my computer showed me some more porn, the same two guys. This time the smaller guy was tied up, spread-eagled. I just let it happen this time, even as I felt the strange feelings come over me, the energy and heat and need that I couldn’t understand. Master Mitch texted me while I was watching and I didn’t think anything special of it. I replied, but I didn’t mention the porn. I had no idea he was watching me from a hotel room just a few miles away, jerking off to me staring wide-eyed at the screen.

A couple days later I was walking from school to the studio for rehearsal when he texted me, saying he was heading out of town soon and asking if I wanted to get together. I was just a few blocks away from him, so I said sure. I thought it was a lucky coincidence, but of course he’d set it all up. He knew right where to be since he was watching me on GPS.

It was a warm spring day. I was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and I had my backpack slung over my shoulder. We met, chatted a bit. He was leaning up against his car; we were outside an empty lot, so there wasn’t anyone or anything nearby. He offered me a soda water flavored with black cherry, which was my favorite. Of course he knew that. It was ice cold, too.

“Are you going to dance?” he asked, as I took the first sip of the drink.

“Yeah!” I said. “We’ve got auditions for Pinocchio and I think I can get it. That show’s gonna be _awesome_.”

“I bet you’d be amazing in it,” he replied. I took another drink.

“There are really cool costumes,” I said, “and I get to work with a bunch of other dancers. It’d be a big role.” I could feel myself starting to get a bit tired, and I didn’t know why.

H e held out a hand, placing it on my shoulder. It felt tingly.

“I’d love to see you in that,” he said.

“You… should come,” I said. My brain felt slow. “If you… can.”

“I’d love to,” he replied.

“I’m really tired,” I said. My eyelids were drooping. I felt a second hand on my shoulders, then he reached down and pushed the drink up to my lips.

“Drink some more,” he said. “Maybe the sugar will wake you up.”

I did, and then I collapsed in his arms.

* * *

I came to slowly. I was tied up in the trunk of a car. Not tied up, really, but handcuffed. My wrists were cuffed together behind my back, and my ankles were cuffed together, and _those_ cuffs were cuffed together, forcing my body to bend backwards, which I thought was really painful but wasn’t that bad compared to what would happen later if I’m being honest. There was also a big ball gag in my mouth, not that I knew what that was just yet. It just stretched my jaw and tasted of rubber, and I kept running my tongue across it, trying to push it out, or feeling the little seam in the ball.

We drove for hours. Eventually, we stopped at some little motel somewhere. The kind where you just drive up to your door, there’s no hallway or anything on the inside. So he checked in with me tied up there in the trunk, drove the car up to his room, and backed into the spot. He opened the door, came back and opened the trunk, and picked me up. There were just three feet between the car and the door. Of course no one saw the bound up little boy Master Mitch carried into his room. I barely made out that it was nighttime. It must’ve been hours and hours.

The feeling of being carried by someone like that was degrading and scary and weird, and it hurt. I was _so_ scared by then. I was shaking. I’d barely managed not to pee my pants. I didn’t know where I was, or why, or what had happened… I’d even managed to fall asleep a bit in the car so I didn’t know how long it’d been. And now I’d felt myself being lifted up and carried into this motel room with someone I thought was my friend.

But he wasn’t my friend.

He was my Master.

He laid me belly-down on the bed and then sat down next to me. He reached out, putting a hand on my back, which was still curved back from my wrists and ankles being cuffed together behind me. I shivered, even though his hand was warm. Who _was_ this man?

He started running his hand in small circles along my back. “Oh, Paul,” he said. “I’m so pleased to have you here.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his hand, but I couldn’t exactly move away. Tears started to come to my eyes, and I blushed in embarrassment that I was starting to cry.

“You’re mine now,” he said, his hand resting on my back. “You’re going to be my little toy, and you’re going to like it.” Then he reached over and let his fingers graze against my cheek, but I jerked my head away.

Master Mitch’s reaction was so swift, I barely processed it. In an instant, he’d grabbed my hair in his left hand and used it to pull my head back hard, forcing my chin up off the bed. “No,” he said, his voice stern and hard. “You never pull away from your Master.” And then his arm swung out, delivering a sharp slap. I yelped, but it was muffled by the gag; more tears ran down my cheeks. Then he reached back and slapped me again. My head swung to the side, but his hand was holding my hair, and so it just pulled on my hair, hurting more.

I was bawling now, as best as I could with that gag in. My throat felt constricted and in pain from the crying, and then the third hard slap rang down on my face. Everything felt fuzzy. I couldn’t see clearly through the tears and my ears were ringing. Then he slapped me a fourth time, and again my head swung to the side, pulling again on my hair. I bawled uselessly into the gag. Everything was hurting. Another slap came down, my head flying in the other direction, and it felt like fire on my cheek. I think his finger got into my eye a little bit and that hurt too. Then another slap, hitting the other cheek. My neck hurt from being held up like this, it felt like my hair was getting pulled out, and all my muscles hurt from being cuffed like this.

Finally he let go of my hair, and my head crashed down into the mattress. I just cried into it for a moment, and Master Mitch let me. I felt the bed move as he shifted to sit on it again. His finger touched my wet cheek again, and I didn’t move away this time. I just sobbed into the bed.

“Listen to me, Paul,” he said, his voice softer. “Are you listening?” I was too scared to reply, so Master Mitch got stern again. “Are you listening?” he said, stopping after each word.

I nodded, softly, into the bed. I felt like the whole world was crashing around me. Everything was gone, but I was listening.

“Look at me. I want you to listen carefully.”

I turned my head. Tears clouded my vision, and I could feel my whole body heaving with sobs and stress. My Master’s fingers were still on my cheek, softly caressing it, and I moaned softly.

“You’re mine, now. No one is ever going to find you. We’re hundreds of miles away from your home. Everything about us is erased off your cell phone and computer, and I put your phone on a truck driving in the opposite direction, so they’re going to track it and end up in completely the wrong place. You were going to rehearse alone for an hour and a half, and they probably wouldn’t call home if you missed group rehearsal after that, so your parents didn’t know anything was wrong until dinner time. When the police finally do anything, there’s going to be no trace.”

I felt myself crying more and more as he spoke. I was such a baby back then! He hadn’t done anything to me yet, not really! But I guess I just felt completely hopeless. I was tied up, gagged, slapped, and terrified. I wanted to believe I’d be found, but it sounded like he’d planned everything. I didn’t even know if I’d be alive in the morning… what had happened to me?!?

“You’re my pet,” Master Mitch continued in his deep, calm voice, as if everything was normal. I still couldn’t move, and I felt my muscles tense at the uncomfortable position I was bound in. “My toy.” He paused a moment. “My slave... you’re going to be a beautiful slave.” He went quiet for a moment while he absently rubbed my cheek. His finger would go down across my bare skin, then up over the strap that kept my gag in place, then along my skin again, then it turned around and went back up.

“It’s so strange,” he said as he continued to stroke my cheek, “I’ve been waiting so long to have you here, and now I don’t really want to get started. You’re my perfect boy. I just want to hold this moment.” I lay there, tied up and helpless, but he just sighed and ran his hand through my hair. I shivered.

He seemed to think for a moment. “You won’t like it at first,” he said, “but you’ll learn, and you’ll see that this is where you belong. This is what you are, Paul.” I wasn’t really listening. “You’re born to serve me. You want to be the small guy.”

Some things started to click into place when he used those words, and I started to realize just how I’d been manipulated. I started to cry again. I don’t cry so much any more, just when he really hurts me, but back then I cried a lot.

Master Mitch stood up. He reached out, grabbing my hair, forcing my face up again. I looked at him through my tears. He was so big compared to me. “Listen to me, slave,” he said. “You will do as I say. If you don’t, you will be punished. Do you understand?”

I was just crying. My hair hurt! “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” he had to repeat louder. I just cried harder.

So he let go of my hair and pushed me. I fell onto my side on the bed, and then he punched me in the stomach. That was all he did, and I guess you must think he was going pretty easy on me if that’s all a Master did for disobeying his order, but I guess he was going easy on me since I was a new slave and I didn’t know what to do yet. It really hurt, though, because my belly was stretched tight because I was stretched out by the cuffs pulling my arms and legs behind my back, so I couldn’t tense up or anything.

I pulled frantically for breath in my nose as his fist sunk into me. I yelled into my gag and more tears streamed down my face. I’ve seen pictures of what I look like now after Master punishes me; my face gets really puffy and red, and snot and tears come out and cover my face and I look so pathetic. I think I must have looked like that.

“When you disobey,” he said sternly as I cried, “I will punish you, and you will learn to obey. Now, I will repeat my question. Do you understand that disobedience leads to punishment, _slave_?”

Everything hurt and I felt totally hopeless. I knew I had to do something but I was so confused I didn’t know what. Finally, I nodded.

“Better,” he said.

Then he pointed to my gag. “I’m going to take this off, and you will stay quiet, _slave_. Do you understand?”

I knew what I had to do, but I needed to work myself up to it. It took a moment, but I looked up at him and saw his serious face, and I nodded.

He reached down and ran his hand through my hair. “There we go,” he said. It was almost a loving touch and I kind-of wanted it but I also didn’t. I just sat there, tied up, and then  I felt his big man’s hands brush across my cheeks as he undid the buckle and removed the gag.

I gasped for breath and the release was amazing. But I was _so_ stupid then, I didn’t listen to his command at all. “PLEASE!” I wailed with my newly-freed mouth. My voice was hoarse, worn out from sobbing and crying and from not even opening my mouth for like ten hours, I couldn’t even yell very loud. “LET ME GO HOME! PLEASE!”

Master was ready for it. He grabbed my hair again and slapped me across the face. Hard. It pushed my head into the bed. Then again, another slap as I felt my neck twist. And a third slap. My cheeks burned. He just stared at me, and I looked back, scared and wide-eyed.

He hadn’t really done anything to me yet, not anything serious, and I was so scared. I was such a baby.

“That was very bad, slave. Are you going to obey me now?”

I gulped. I wanted to be a hero but I didn’t feel like it. I just nodded.

“Answer out loud.”

“Yeah… yes...”

He nodded. It was one of the last times in my life I’d answer a question like that without using the word “Master,” but he hadn’t explained that part yet.

“Much better,” he said. “Now, are you hungry?”

“I...” My voice was still hoarse. “I need to go to the bathroom really bad!” I said, starting to cry again.

“Yeah, of course,” said Master Mitch. He suddenly sounded more… human? “Should’ve thought of that. I’m lucky you’re still dry.” With a smile, he added, “especially after that black cherry drink.” I still couldn’t move, but I turned my head to watch him go to his suitcase and bring out a collar and leash.

My first-ever collar.

He brought it up in front of my lips. “Kiss it,” he said.

“Huh?”

“This collar symbolizes my ownership of you. You are mine. By kissing it, you welcome that ownership. Now kiss it.”

I looked up at him. It was so _weird_ to me back then. Now, I still remember when he got me a new collar when I finished training, and another one for my thirteenth birthday, and both times I knelt and I kissed them and then I smiled up at him and said “thank you, Master,” and I waited while he attached it to my neck. That was totally normal.

But back then, I didn’t understand. It was this weird black collar, and I wondered why it had so many loops on it where you could attach things. But I wasn’t dumb, either. I’ve always been a smart kid. I knew that if I didn’t obey, he’d hurt me again, maybe worse. So I puckered up my lips and leaned forward and closed my eyes and I kissed my new collar.

After the kiss, Master Mitch attached it to my neck with a little lock, making sure I couldn’t remove it. I could feel his strong hands, his fingertips a little bit cold on my neck as they fiddled with it to put it on. Then he put on the leash, and finally he removed the cuffs. Back then, you see, I’d never been tied up for so long. I mean, I’d never been tied up at all. Finally I could stretch out, move my arms, move my legs. I was a dancer, and muscles even _I_ didn’t know I had were hurting.

I put out my arms and legs right away, like a starfish, but it hurt! So after that I moved slowly, trying not to let it hurt too much from the sore muscles.

“Come,” he said, after watching me stretch.

I stood up. It  still  hurt to move,  and I was really wobbly,  but it felt wonderful.  He led me by the leash to the bathroom  as I limped behind him, and  he  stood me in front of the toilet.

“You’re gonna stand there? While I...” My voice trailed off in embarrassment. I didn’t want him to see me peeing!

“Drop your pants,” he said.

“I could just… use the fly...”

“DROP YOUR PANTS!” He was much louder, and he raised his hand to slap me again. I grabbed for my belt, fumbling, and I did it. I dropped my pants, and my undies. They were white briefs. (I figured you’d want to know…) I felt so exposed, my hairless little dick hanging out. I think it was underdeveloped, since I’d seen other kids at gym class with hair already. Then again, Master Mitch watched everything before he took me, so I think that might be another reason he picked me.

Yeah, and I guess you’d want to know about my legs, too. (You’re going to tell Master Mitch you liked the story, right?) They were long, and kind-of muscled, but not like gymnast muscled or anything. They were dancer sleek. Good for tights. Long, and firm, and also smooth and hairless, but firm from regular use. Although right then, I think my knees were shaking.

“You’re watching me...” I mumbled miserably.

“Piss,” said Master Mitch. He stood there holding my leash while I stood there mostly naked. I don’t think I could have peed normally, but it’d been so long, it all just started rushing out, a long, steady stream into the toilet. I blushed bright red as I heard it splash into the toilet, but I couldn’t help it, and I let a big breath out as the pressure in my little bladder was finally released.

When I was done, I tapped my little dick to get the last drops of pee off, not realizing how much my new Master was probably enjoying the view, and then I leaned down to pull my pants up. “No,” he said. “Step out of them.”

“But...”

“NOW,” he said.

I stepped out of them. I told you I was shy, right? I guess I was meek too. I just did what he told me. But, like, I was wearing a collar and leash too, so wouldn’t anyone?

“Now take off your shirt.”

I stared up at him, biting my lip.

“NOW,” he insisted again.

That word, said with such force… it just worked. I don’t know why I was even reluctant. The shirt wasn’t the really embarrassing part, right? Anyway, I took it off. We had to pull it up the length of the leash. And now I just had socks and shoes on.

“And those,” he said, pointing to my last clothing.

It felt significant to take off my last clothes, but  I leaned down to remove them. I was  going to be  totally naked. I  didn’t realize  he could see my sleek body as I reached down,  my long firm legs,  my ass stretch behind me, the curl of my skin.  Bending down like that,  I untied my shoelaces, then pulled off my shoes. Then my socks.  They dropped down next to me.  That was it.

“Come,” he said, walking away with the leash. I padded after him, naked in this dingy motel room, head turned up to see this strange and scary man. I felt my bare feet go from bathroom tile to threadbare carpet.

Master Mitch stood me in front of him. He reached out, ran his fingers over a nipple, caressing it for a moment, not speaking while I stood there in my collar and leash and shivered. Finally, he spoke.

“Listen closely, Paul.” It was the first time he’d used my name since… since he stopped being my friend. “Are you listening?”

I nodded. Maybe this had some explanation, maybe it was ok, it was some weird adventure…

“You are my slave,” he said. “I am your Master now. You will call me Master or Master Mitch. Do you understand?”

I stared at him.

He slapped me, hard. I was barely able to stand. I felt myself crying again. Tears rolled down my cheeks and then I felt them on my bare chest.

“I asked you a question,” he said sternly. “Do you understand?”

“K-kind of...”

“Kind of is good enough for now,” he said gruffly. “But you must call me Master whenever you speak to me.”

“O-ok, M-Master,” I managed to burst out. More tears rolled down my face.

“Kneel,” he commanded me.

I was so scared. My lip was trembling. I knelt, down on my knees.

“Lower,” he said.

I lowered my torso down.

“Lower,” he said again.

I bent forward, my head going towards the ground.

My Master reached a foot up and placed it on my back, forcing me down towards the ground. “You are a slave,” he said.

Remember how I told you at the start how I kneel to him, with my forehead down on the ground? Well, I never thought about it before, but I guess this was the first time I showed him a slave’s respect. There in that rundown hotel room. Now, I guess I probably wasn’t the first person used for sex in that room, but maybe I was the first boy.

“This is your natural position,” he was saying. “Like the collar, it shows that I own you. That you are my special property now.”

He held his foot hard on my back. I couldn’t see him, not with my forehead pressed into that smelly carpet, but I could feel him. It felt like I was supposed to say something.

“O-ok,” I said. The foot pressed down harder. I added, “Master.”

“The response,” said the tall, large man who towered over me, “is `yes, Master.’”

He paused again, his foot pressing into my back. “Y-yes, Master,” I squeaked out.

“This is what you are, Paul,” my Master said. “You’re born to serve me.” He paused a moment. “You want to be the small guy.”

There it was again.

“Do you understand, slave?” he said as I tried to process my new information.

And what was I going to say, with his foot on my head, my forehead pressed into the ground? What could I say?

“Yes, Master.”

“When you kneel, your forehead is on the ground. And you stay like that until I give you permission to stand.”

His tone indicated he wanted a response. “Yes, master,” I said. There was a rhythm to it, a pattern, and I was getting used to it. My tears started to dry up. The last few rolled into that thin carpet.

“Are you hungry, slave?”

Of course I replied. “Yes, master.”

* * *

He left me kneeling like that, attaching the leash to a bedpost, while I heard him move around the room. I heard a bag opening up, plastic crinkling. But I stayed down, just like I’d been told. Finally he released the leash, sat down and told me to get up and sit next to him, and I did, my bare skin up against his clothed body as he wrapped his hand around and felt me.

“You’re a beautiful boy,” he said, and he ran his hand through my hair, holding me close. “We’re going to have lots of fun together.” I just kind-of bit my lip and stayed quiet.

We ate the packaged food he’d brought, and we drank water and he even had some black cherry fizzy water. I didn’t want to drink it, but he promised me it was fine, and it was. My Master is a very kind Master to have brought that for me, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

He turned to me when I finished eating, his mouth bare inches from my ear. “You should thank your Master for the food.”

“Thank you,” I said. He stared at me. “Um, Master.” He nodded.

I was still naked except for my collar and leash, and I was wondering when I would be allowed to dress. The answer, of course, was not for two whole days, and even then I wouldn’t dress very much. Instead, Master Mitch stood up and started to remove his clothes. I stared, not having seen a man do that, not really.

He was large, and had hair over his body in all kinds of places, and his dick was big and thick. I knew I shouldn’t stare at it, and I tried not to, but I’d just seen that porn, and… I forced myself to turn away, blushing.

Grabbing the end of my leash, he climbed into the bed and spread his legs. He pointed between them. “Come,” he said.

The place he wanted me to go took me frighteningly close to his big dick. From seeing that porn… I thought I knew what he wanted. I really, really didn’t want to give it to him, but especially naked, he was so scary, and his cock was getting bigger…

“Lick it,” he said, pointing to his dick. I just stared. “NOW,” he insisted. I’d learn later that he was just being nice; if I delayed like that today, I’d get flogged for sure, or worse.

His insistence was enough. I was so scared, I just wanted this to be over. More tears came to my eyes as I tentatively reached out my tongue and gave it a little lick… there was something gooey at the tip and it caught on my tongue, and I tried to reach up to remove it with my hand…

“No,” he said. “Swallow it.”

I really,  _really_ didn’t want to do that. I was shaking. More tears were running down my cheek s . I brought my tongue into my mouth and felt a feeling like throwing up. But I swallowed.

“Lick,” he said, pointing again. “More.” I felt used; I felt like an object; I felt like a toy. My parents let me walk on my own from school to the dance studio, and they let me rehearse on my own, and let me read all the books I wanted. I’d been so grown up. And now I was naked, with a collar and leash, and couldn’t go anywhere. I was just a… a slave.

And I leaned down and gave his pulsing dick another lick, swallowing the bit of stuff that I didn’t know yet was precum.

“More,” he said, “the whole thing from base to tip.”

I was only twelve years old! But I held my breath, and I leaned down, and I stuck out my tongue, and I licked from base to tip.

“Now everything. Make the whole thing wet with your spit.”

My stomach turned, and I started to lick. I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, and I could smell everything. Hours and hours of sitting in the car driving, waiting outside, spending the morning preparing… all of that was condensed into a thick musk that I couldn’t help smelling. I just wanted to throw up.

But instead I licked.

I heard Master Mitch moan then. I’d heard moaning in that porn video, but this was different. This was right here, next to me,  _caused_ by me. His dick pulsed on my tongue; more precum flowed out, and I was scared, so I drank it down like he wanted. I kept licking; he moaned again.

“Put your lips around it,” instructed my new Master. “Suck on it like a lollipop.”

If that had been his first command, I’d have rebelled. I’d have said no. But I’d already done so much, and I was so scared, I just did it. I wrapped my  soft red lips around this big man’s dick, and I began to suck.

“Don’t let your teeth touch it,” he said, and I tried to obey.

It was really tiring to suck on such a big dick. My jaw was stretched, and my muscles were tired, and more and more of his precum kept leaking out and I kept swallowing it. I think he could feel me slowing down, because he grabbed me with his hands on either side of my head and pushed me down.

I gagged, and tried to pull off, but he didn’t let me. I didn’t understand yet that I was a slave, that how I f eel doesn’t matter. All that matters is how he feels. He’s my Master.

Using his big, strong arms and hands, he started to shove my face back and forth along his cock. It was coated in my spit now, more drool leaking out of my mouth, as he rocked it back and forth. My arms and legs twitched as if to fight back, but they didn’t. He was so strong, and with each pull the cock went deeper into my mouth, deeper, deeper, until it pushed into my throat and he pulled me deeper, and it slid down, and I couldn’t breathe.

He held it there a moment, his cock throbbing within me, filling my mouth and snaking down my throat in a way I’d never felt before and I didn’t like it. Then he pulled me off. “Deep breath,” he said.

I complied.

And then he shoved it in, again, down my throat. He pulled my head back and forth in short thrusts, massaging the dick that was buried within me. My throat was on fire; I needed to breathe desperately.

He pulled up one more time. I felt the now-familiar taste of precum, more of it, on my tongue. I gasped for breath, took a deep one… and he forced me down again.

It was so deep, he held his cock in there. I couldn’t breathe but he was moaning and gasping in pleasure, his hands tightening on me, his hips bucking, forcing it deeper if it could even go deeper.

And then he came. I didn’t know that’s what it was; I just knew that his dick was pulsing, swelling right in my throat, hurting even more. I could feel something thick and gooey in there, but I didn’t know what that was. It oozed down in my stretched and sore throat.

For the first time, I drank cum.

At last, my Master pulled out. I gasped for breath, looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

“Lick it clean,” he ordered.

My Master’s cock was so gross to me back then. (I’m sorry, Master.) It was covered in all sorts of slimy stuff, my spit and his cum and whatever else it picked up in my throat. It was big even as it started to shrink, and it was scary, and I was naked and wearing a collar and leash and scared. So I leaned forward and began to lick it. I licked up all the goo that was on it. Master was still leaking cum, like he does after using me, and I licked that up too. It was my first taste of cum ever, but there was going to be a lot more where that came from. Literally, haha.

* * *

He made me brush my teeth. He actually made me do it way more than my mom ever did, really covering everything. And he made me use adult toothpaste, which didn’t taste as good.

Then it was time for bed. There was one bed, and we both climbed in naked. He cuffed me again, hands and feet, but at least my hands were in front this time, and my hands and feet weren’t cuffed together. I was gagged, too, just in case. And then he held my warm little body up against his, close and tight. Spooning, but I didn’t know that word yet. He wrapped his big, thick arms around me and then pushed my hands to the side where they had been protecting my privates, because I didn’t know they were his yet. Once he got my hands out of the way, one of his big hands wrapped around my boycock and balls.

“You’re going to be great, my little slave,” he mumbled. “I’ve been watching you for so long.” His hand started to gently stroke along my dick and I gasped at the sensation; I couldn’t help it. Did it get hard? I honestly don’t know, I didn’t even think to check. “I can’t believe I finally have you,” he continued. I could feel his warm breath along the back of my neck with each word, wrapped in his strong arms.

And then… he fell asleep. I didn’t think I could fall asleep, not like that, but I was really, really tired, and I did, held in my Master’s arms.

* * *

I didn’t like the next day very much, either.

I slept badly that night. I had nightmares, and I woke up several times in the night, only to find myself in a strange man’s arms. I thought about trying to escape, but with the cuffs on my hands and ankles and the leash and how big Master Mitch is… I couldn’t. Sometimes when I woke up, I’d be so scared I’d be shaking. I’d been taken from my family, from dance, from everything… and even then, I think I knew I’d never be going back. I’d feel tears running down my cheeks and I’d sob, quietly, until I fell back asleep.

The next day, Master Mitch began more of his new slave’s basic training.

Everyone knows that a slave should wake up before his Master, but Master Mitch woke up first, so he undid my gag and slapped me awake. “Kneel, slave!” he said, but I’d just woken up and I didn’t know what to do, so I just stared at him. He slapped me again.

“Kneel!” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor.

I scrambled up then, or as best as I could with the cuffs, and I knelt. (I almost fell with my ankles cuffed together.) I know now how much my Master likes it when I kneel naked. He says that he loves the way my smooth skin bunches up and folds and how it displays my slender body for him. I hope you like it too…

Anyway, I knelt, just like he taught me, all the way down until my forehead touched the floor. But he wasn’t happy, because I’d forgotten my lessons from the day before. He reached down, pulled my head up by the hair, and gave me another slap to my cheek and I cried out in pain even though it wasn’t that bad. “What do you say?” he shouted.

I had just woken up, and I was confused, and this man was so big and he was towering over me and… and then I remembered.

“Yes, Master,” I said. My lip was trembling in fear and I could feel the rest of my body shaking too. He stood expectantly, and I wondered if I was supposed to say anything else. But I knew he’d hurt me if I said the wrong thing! The silence got longer, and longer, and longer. Finally, I said in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry, Master.”

“That’s right, slave,” he replied. “I will teach you your morning duties later, but we have a long drive ahead of us. For now, kneel, and suck.”

Master Mitch sat down on the bed then, and he spread his legs. His big, hard dick hung there. I slowly pulled myself up and stared at it.

I was so scared.

My lip was trembling again. More tears ran down my cheeks. But I brought myself up, shuffled forward, and began the task I’d received training on just last night. Once again I took my Master’s cock into my mouth.

Master Mitch was gentler this time. He didn’t force himself into my throat. Instead, he trained me. He taught me to use my tongue, he taught me to suck harder, he taught me to bob my head back and forth, and maybe he even taught me to stroke the part I couldn’t take in, I don’t remember.

Why did I take his cock in so readily? Maybe it was because I was so scared, or because I figured I’d already done it once. But now I obeyed each new command he gave. Was that also because I was scared? Or was it because I liked it already? When I think back now, I feel my boy-dick strain against the cage my Master put on it. Maybe I liked it. Maybe I already wanted to be the smaller one. I don’t remember, really. I guess it doesn’t matter.

But I sucked him. I ran my tongue around his tip when he told me to, and I bobbed my head back and forth, and I licked up all his precum. Master Mitch was moaning, his big cock pulsing in my mouth. I didn’t know the sounds of pleasure he made then, but now I know every sound he makes. No one is better at bringing my Master pleasure than me.

“See?” Master Mitch said. “What a quick study you are.” He ran his hand through my hair and let out a gasp of pleasure as my tongue ran along his tip. “I’ll turn you into a perfect little slave.” He gasped again, then put his thumb on my forehead and pushed my head back, tilting my face up to look at him. “And I’ll tell you one other thing, Paul,” he said. “You’re going to like it. You’re going to like being my slave.”

He held me like that, just looking up at him, for what felt like an eternity. Then he just said: “Now keep sucking.” And I did. I turned my head down, opened my mouth, and took him in once again.

“Ohhhhhh fuuuuuckkk,” moaned my Master as I continued my second-ever blowjob. He says that all the time now. It was probably just like he does now: he would have humped his hips forward, and maybe his hands were going through my sweaty hair even if they weren’t pulling me on deeper like the night before. And then – I know this really well – he would cry out and shove forward, and his dick would get even longer, and it would pulse, and then the first stream of hot thick cum would shoot out into my mouth. It’s all a blur in my memory, but that’s what it’s always like.

All I remember is what he said just before that happened. “Swallow it all, slave.”

...and, as his dick pulsed hard in my mouth, I swallowed. Because I was scared? Or because I wanted to?

I couldn’t get it all. My Master cums a lot. I mean it. I’ve sucked a lot of dicks by now, and my Master isn’t the biggest, but he _definitely_ makes the most cum, it’s kind of crazy. I can swallow it all down now, but then I couldn’t even though I tried.

What’s the word my Master likes? Yeah, cum  _dribbled_ down my chin, onto my chest and belly. I just did the best I could, and swallowed everything I could. I think I did okay for my first time.

Master Mitch made me scoop the rest up with my finger and swallow it down. “A slave never wastes his Master’s cum.” He says that a lot, I bet he said it then. Even though I didn’t really know what cum was until that moment.

He made me shower then while he watched, and he made me keep the water on cold. “You don’t deserve warm water yet, slave,” he said. I remember that part really well. “You can earn it.”

Then he bound me again, just like I was in the trunk. Wrists cuffed behind me, ankles cuffed, and the two chains cuffed together. He gagged me, and left me in the motel room. At least he left me near the heater, because I was cold, damp, and naked. When he showered, I saw the steam coming out of the bathroom from the hot water.

He dressed, took out his luggage, and popped the trunk. After checking that no one was around, he picked up my naked body, carried me outside, and shoved me back in the trunk. Then he slammed it down and it was dark, and quiet. I guess he was checking out.

Then we drove for a long, long time.

He’d scheduled a couple of breaks. Places where he’d looked ahead for exits off the highway in secluded places. Where he could drive off the road to the edge of a forest, or a deserted field. Where he could pop the trunk and let me out, let me walk a little bit. (The cuffs were still around my ankles, but I could take small steps.) He let me piss there while he watched. He gave me food, and some water to drink, but not too much so I wouldn’t pee in the car, I guess. I was scared, but it felt great to stand, and to feel the sun on my body. Even if I was naked. Even if I was embarrassed. Even if the gag never came out.

Actually, that’s not true, the gag did come out. At two of the stops, he had me kneel and suck him off again. I was getting used to it already. I swallowed.

When he told me to lie down so he could bind me up for the trunk again, I didn’t want to. But I did. What else could I do? I lay face down on the grass, with it tickling my naked body, and he pulled up my ankles, pulled back my wrists, and attached them. Then he picked me up, wiped off grass and bugs, and stuck me in the trunk again.

We finally got to my Master’s house that night. It’s big and secluded, away from anyone who might see anything amiss. Perfect for keeping a little slave, of course.

Master Mitch decided he wanted me malleable and easy to train. So after feeding me and making me clean up (another cold shower!) and brush my teeth, he bound me up again. He ordered me to stand there while he placed individual cuffs on each of my wrists and ankles, and a collar on my neck. And then he bound me to an X-shaped cross, sized already to my smaller body. He locked the cuffs at my wrists and ankles to the end of the cross, keeping me spread out. I guess it was a relief compared to the trunk.

Then he put the gag back into my mouth.

The last part was the really hard part, although I didn’t know it yet. They were nipple clamps, which already really hurt. I whined through my gag and looked pleadingly at Master Mitch, but it didn’t work. Now I just know looking at him like that turns him on.

Then he left, turning off the light and shutting the door to the basement where I was being held.

I whined again, squirming, unable to get comfortable. Was I really going to have to sleep tied up and standing up like this, and with these painful clamps on? They really hurt! (Or I thought they did. These days, I can take them no problem.) But the answer to that was yes, and even standing, I drifted off eventually…

...Until the clamps started sending electric shocks through my body.

Master Mitch had programmed them with a ten-minute sequence of painful shocks. I screamed into my gag, I didn’t know what it was, I thought I might die! But I know now they weren’t actually that bad, not really. After ten minutes, it was finally over… and eventually I drifted off again.

Until they went off again two hours later. My Master had programmed them to go off every two hours, to make sure that I’d get some sleep, just not enough.

The next day, when he finally came down (he was kind and gave me ten whole hours, just with the bondage and the pain), he found me asleep. He slapped me, and I started awake, fearing more shocks. I whimpered. I was so tired, even though I’d slept. There were dried tears on my cheeks, and I felt my body trembling. I gasped as he released the clamps, and let my ankles and wrists off of the cross and then removed the gag.

“Kneel, slave,” he said.

I knelt. “Yes, Master,” I coughed out, my throat dry. There was no fight left in me. Not after that night. Not with how tired I was. I was ready to do whatever my Master told me to.

Which was exactly how he wanted it.

“It’s time for you to learn the rules of being a slave.”

* * *

Soooooo… pretty hot, right? Right?

You’re going to tell Master Mitch that, right? Please? That it was hot?

I think about what he said, you know. That I would like it. Sometimes I wonder. Did Master Mitch make me into a slave? Or was I always meant to be a slave? That’s what he says, and I guess Master is always right, but… I guess I’ll never really know if I could’ve been anything else if he hadn’t taken me. I just am what I am now.

So yeah. Tell him it’s hot. That I’m a good slave and stuff. My writing time is basically over, so I have to go cook dinner for my Master and stuff.

And you’ll like this. After I do serve him dinner, I offer to service his cock while he eats, right there under the kitchen table. I mean, just if he wants it, of course.

But I hope he does want it. He’s always in a good mood after I do that. I’m really good at it by now.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story.
> 
> I welcome your comments, feedback, ideas, and friendship. You can reach me by e-mail at leonardwriting@gmail.com, or via wherever I posted this story. I've met lots of interesting people through my stories and made some real friends, and I'd love to meet more to chat and get to know who's out there.
> 
> As extra incentive, I also maintain a list of people to whom I will send story drafts, behind-the-scenes notes, discarded scenes, and other extras. If you would like to be on this list, e-mail me and ask to be added.
> 
> I would also appreciate it if you can upvote the story or comment on it wherever you found it.
> 
> I have many more stories (over a dozen, some novel-length) which you can likely find wherever you found this story or by contacting me.
> 
> You are welcome to distribute this story so long as you leave it unchanged and it contains all of the surrounding text, including this text. It is intended to be distributed freely; please do not charge for it.


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